


The Sleepless City

by binaryV2



Category: DC Extended Universe, marvel comic influences, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Alternate Universe - Noir, Blood and Gore, Detectives, Gen, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Police, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binaryV2/pseuds/binaryV2
Summary: A string of gruesome, puzzling, violent murders brings a gruff, tired Katuski Bakugou out of his detective office and into the city of Tokyo Japan in this Alternate Noirverse version of Boku no Hero. No quirks (at least... we think so), No Heroes, No Villians, and far too many secrets.
Relationships: All the crumbs, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Utsushimi Camie, Iida Tenya/Midoriya Izuku, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. A not too pretty sight.

It's too late at night for something like this. I'm never usually called in to consult unless a certain idiot is heading the case and that certain idiot called me out of bed at three AM for something he "Doesn't have a good feeling about." If I had a penny for every time I heard THAT line, I still wouldn't have close to enough to get out of Japan, but I'd have a lot of money. That's the thing about this town. In the daylight, it's a pretty picture-perfect tourist attraction. Nice people, nice sights, plenty of friendly folks... but at night. Well, that's where this story comes in handy.

I'm taking a cab to the place I'm being asked to meet at, and I can't help but look at all the neon signs and lights still ablaze. When the sun goes down, the night-life gets shadier, more smokey. Jazz clubs fill with thugs, degenerates, and those who work there can only get the night shifts because it's dangerous work to serve scotch to a criminal. Even the bartenders are hard as nails. I could go for a drink myself, right now. I'm growing a five-o-clock shadow, I feel it when my fingers trace against the edges of my scruff. I'm too tired for this...

The cab pulls over, flagged by police officers. The boys in blue don't see me in the back. They want the driver to make a U-Turn, the crime scene's got the street on lockdown. They're tryna get it so the press won't stick their filthy noses as soon as they catch a whiff, that's why I'm being called out here so early... but those vultures find a way to sniff out a story. Oh, how they find a way... When the panic brews, that's when the cases get harder for the boys...

That's why I'm a private eye. As soon as I step out of the back, two rookies know exactly who I am. Probably because they were briefed on any possible consultants that might show up. That or my ruby eyes freak 'em out enough to stop asking questions. By the time the cab pulls away, it's just me and the three rookies. One of em's got bright yellow hair and the other's got some sorta red mess under their police hat. _"So, you two **idiots** gonna stand there with your thumbs up to your asses, or you gonna take me to the crime scene?"_ They snap to attention, especially the one with shitty hair. He's enthusiastic.... Too enthusiastic. Must be tryna impress someone. If I was younger, and still on the force, I'd find it admirable. Now? It's just annoying. 

The alleyway's dark and smells like piss. Cardboard boxes and cans give me the impression that homeless folk gathers here on the regular to sleep in groups. Safer that way. The number of folks that'd rip your clothes off your back would surprise any visitor wishing to travel during the waning hours. I see a mop of green hair and pale, freckled skin overlook a body. Green eyes have heavy bags under them. A symptom of working on the "Night Shifts" of the police force. 

"Kacchan." Deku greets. A childhood nickname he's never let go. I hate that he uses it in front of other people.  
"Deku." I greet back, out of spite for his own nickname. 

Our tones are so apathetic, tired. When we joined the force, we were at each other's throats. We were young, eager to earn a good rep, and ready to tear this city a new one. Year after year of a late-night drug bust, murder scene, and piles of paperwork wore us down. Sure, it created mutual respect... but it turned an excitable, good-hearted cop into a tired, grumpy, apathetic average joe. 

I didn't need a clone of myself hanging around me. Part of the reason why I branched out... started my own private agency. 

I reach into my coat, fumble around for a cigarette. When I've got one between my lips, I look toward Deku and mutter out, "Light?" He doesn't look up from the body, kneels down next to it in fact.

**_"Smoking's bad for you."_ **

That's the bastard with the glasses talkin'. He has one hell of a partner. Somehow, that bastard with the glasses ain't been worn down yet. Lesson after lesson and he still goes by the book. It's admirable, but at this point, I'm just waitin' to see him break. It's a shitty thing to say, but it's something that happens to all the "by the book" cops that come into this city. Reluctantly, I tuck my cigarette back into my coat and stuff my hands into the coat's pockets, fumbling with whatever change is in there.

Deku picks up on it, sees I want a distraction. The early hours have me agitated, the lack of smoking has me with no way to relieve stress, so he starts talkin'. He's trying to get me focused on somethin' other than my need to smoke. That'd be the corpse lying before us both, body blanket covering it. Different numerical posts layout all over, evidence markers. I start gathering the details on my own while Deku goes over the body.

 _"Looks like the guy got mauled to death. Lacerations all over the arms and legs, and piercing wounds across the chest. That's not even the worst part..."_  
Deku says, lifting the sheet up so I can see. If those rookie cops saw what we were seeing, they'd vomit where they stood. Still, though, years of experience hardened me, but even the sight of a **_man without a face_** makes me wanna vomit. You can only ID that the victim is a male due to the build... The body's so torn up that it'd almost be unrecognizable.

 _"Call the local zoo... looks like they lost a bear... or a lion."_  
" **Kacchan** , this can't be an animal."  
 _"So we got a guy that likes to eat faces? C'mon **Deku**... We've seen some insane bastards in our rookie years... but this-"_  
"We have a witness. You'll wanna hear it..."

He looks almost like he's perplexed himself. Usually, when he sees a body, he comes up with twenty to one hundred theories on what happened, or where the guy coulda gone... but this is different. He's actually at a loss for words, tryin' get me to listen to what the witness has to say. I let out a tch, a grumble. I take out a cigarette. I'd already forgotten that I didn't have a light. I snap toward one of the rookies. _"Hey, **Shitty Hair** , get over 'ere,"_ I say, cigarette in my lip.

The rookie runs over, Deku still looking at the body. His face goes pale, eyes turn to dots. He's barely able to look at me. I gotta snap to get him to just BARELY focus attention on me.

"Got a light, Red?"  
"I-I... Uh..."  
"I'll take that as a no."  
"N-No, I do. For emergancies."  
  
I look at him, puzzled as to when you'd need a lighter for emergencies. He pulls out a matchbook and strikes one for me. I grab his wrist and hold it still as I light my cigarette. Once I'm lit, I take a drag off it. Cools the nerves like ice. Leaves a hell of a stench though. The kid looks at me, big ole red eyes and everything. 

"D-Detective... You're **Katuski Bakugou** , right?"  
"Who wants to know?"  
"I heard you left the force... why?"  
"Got caught with a bunch of **hookers** and a load of **snow**."  
  
Deku shakes his head, _"Kacchan.."_ He sounds like my mother, disappointed and apathetic. I take another drag of my cigarette and consider giving Deku the bird for old time's sake. Red looks almost relieved to hear that that wasn't the truth, but a light-hearted joke. I give him a less sarcastic and honest answer, but I don't wanna give my life story to someone who looks like they don't know how to use a hairbrush.

"Stay on the force long enough, and you might get an idea as to why..."

He looks confused and I don't blame him. Sometimes, I don't even know why I left the force. It feels like it was just yesterday, but I know it was years ago. I'm older, more mature, and battered down because of it. If I retire, I feel like I'll crumble under the pressure of the city. Probably end up like one of the homeless in this alleyway. I let out a grumble, the urge to hear out Deku's witness is eatin' at me like a ton of snakes fighting over a rat.

"You got the witness here?"  
He looks up, seeming relieved that I was interested. _"No, they looked scared to death. **Hysterical**. Had a couple of officers take 'em to the station."_  
Dammit, I'm not drunk enough, or awake enough to walk into that god-damn station and deal with all the shit I'll get for going. Not today, at least.

"I'll be there tomorrow. Not this early, but early."  
 _"Why tomorrow? You still got a bottle of **booze** lying around in that **office**?"_ He seems disgusted by the fact I'm not bowing to his whim as soon as possible.  
"Oi, watch yer mouth, Deku." I curse at him, wanting to spit out more of my fowl language... but I'm far too tired for it.

* * *

The walk back to my office is time-consuming but gives me time to think. This body ended up looking pretty gruesome, so gruesome that Deku had no idea what exactly could've caused it. Now, what caused him the most confusion? The murder victim? Or the witness' story. He says the witness was hysterical, too. So, was it the brutality of the murder, or the murderer themself? It gets me eager to find the truth. For all I know, though, the witness could just be lookin' for a place to stay. A jail cell, an interrogation room, or an office couch, no matter how uncomfortable... is much more comfortable than an alleyway. Unless the witness isn't a homeless person... just an average joe off the street...

My receptionist is bored out of her mind, tapping her fingers against the desk and staring off into space. She's a broad with not too much in the attic, but she looks nice... and girls with a nice body and a gorgeous face are often quick to be trusted by someone needing to hire a detective. Blonde hair, plump lips, busty, if I was a younger man... I'd stare more. I grumble out a good morning, and I wanna thank her more for being here so early... despite how I barely manage to scrape up enough for her paycheck.

"You got a visitor."  
"You too-" That's new. I stop in my tracks, turning toward Camie with a raised eyebrow.  
  
 _"You got a **visitor** , Katuski."_  
"How long've they been up there?"  
 _"...I dunno... **Thirty minutes** , I think?"_  
"Whadda I even pay ya for?" I grumble, hearing her shout back up the stairs, _"Too look **pretty**!"_ at me. 

I walk in the office, expecting someone with a boring case. Someone who'll ramble on and on and think I'm listening while I think about Deku's case and his witness. What I find is completely different from what I was expecting.

A fine pair of legs is what I see first. Crossed over one another, black heels on the feet. Stockings, make the legs look more tan. She's wearing a dress. It's tight, looks like somethin' a singer would wear at a club on performance night. The dress is dark pink and there's a snow-white scarf wrapped around the neck and head. She's got glasses over her eyes... but I can see strands of hazelnut hair underneath it. Her gorgeous make-up and ruby red lips are meant to distract me from the fact that she looks incognito, and it's almost working. The dress makes her curves look luscious, her legs are to die for, and even behind glasses, I'm sure her eyes can kill me with a hard stare.

Her lips form an O, smoke coming out as I notice she's leaning on my desk. I wonder if the seduction look's meant to also distract me from the fact that she somehow broke into my scotch under my desk. She broke out two glasses, poured two out. She puts the cigarette out in the ashtray and offers a glass to me. Her voice ain't deep, but boy does she make it sultry. Roundface's got my attention alright. 

_"Detective..."_  
"Tryna butter me up with good looks and a drink? Must not have much to offer with money."  
 _"Not untrue..."_

I wonder what the hell I'm gettin' myself into. It's what she says next that grabs me by the balls and twists.

_"I just have a vested interest in that body you saw earlier this morning..."_

How the hell did she know about that? I'm reluctant to drink the scotch. She's a beautiful woman, she knows about something she couldn't have been there for, and she's got as much interest as me? This has to be a dream. "How'd you know about that?" I ask, my mouth bein' a fuckin echo chamber for my head.

 _"Don't worry about it, detective. Just know that I'm willing to pay whatever it takes for you to tell me whatever you find out... It's a **deep** rabbit hole, and I know you'll **fall** down it. It'll grab you **tight** and **pull** you down... and if you're going down..."_ She looks at me with this venomous gaze, and despite the fact she hasn't moved... I feel like she's circling me like a shark that's found its meal. _"...I wanna hear about what you find..."_

I can barely focus. I've got too many questions. When she walks past me, she taps my shoulder... her finger dancing across it. _"You can find me at **Dante's**..."_ She says, her voice lower and closer to a whisper than before. She's closer, and she's got me hook line and sinker. I'm still trying to mull over everything she's said by the time ole' round face walks out the door. When I turn around, I catch a glimpse of her rear... lose focus for a moment, and then regain my train of thought...

"Dante's? That sleazy club on fifth?" I think aloud as I look down at my scotch. This morning just rocked me harder than a boxer taking a hook tot he faces. I knock the glass of scotch down in one sip before shaking my head and looking toward the bottle. 

I'm gonna need the whole bottle... This morning just got a whole lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time at a first-person-POV fic. Let's see where this Murder Mystery takes us!


	2. Dante's Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes jumping into the mouth of the beast to find the truth.

So, there I was. I'm squintin' at the sunlight because it's bringin' out the ghoulish side of me. Of course, the detective chasin' after the nightlife ain't gonna look any better than the nightlife itself. This isn't a fairytale where the good guys are shining beacons of hope and the bad guys are despicable globs of hate. In this city, everyone's got their darker shades. I've got my own demons, just like everyone else. 

Now, I'm outside the police station with tired eyes. A cigarette hangs between my lips, and as I take another drag I'm stopped by good ole' shitty hair. Can't seem to shake the redhead loose, no matter how much of an asshole I am to him. He's got this big stupid smile on his face, brimming with excitement. I'm wondering how long the guy's been in this city, and why he hasn't been worn down yet. For a moment, it makes me wonder if Deku and I are just the tired, broken ones...

"Heyy! Kacchan!"  
" ** _Don't_** call me that."  
"I heard Officer Midoriya call you that-"  
"Yeah, and it's a bad habit he needs to break." 

As soon as I get inside, there's sensory overload like crazy. Boys in blue are storming around, phones are ringing, interviews are being had. It's a police station that's overflowing with filth, and not enough people here can clean up the mess. I take a drag off my cigarette, and as soon as I even think about tapping at the ashes, four eyes stare me down... breathing down my neck. A loud voice starts beratin' me... sounds like my god damn mother.

 **"DETECTIVE BAKUGOU THERE IS NO SMOKING IN THE STATION!"**  
"Cool your jets, Four-eyes... I'm puttin' it out."  
 **"FUNNY NICKNAME, DETECTIVE. FOUR EYES! BECAUSE I'M WEARING GLASSES. PUT YOUR CIGARETTE OUT."**

Tenya Iida always finds a way to get under my skin. He's the _know-it-all by-the-book_ officer who took the role of Deku's partner. I put my cigarette out on an ashtray sitting atop a trash can before flicking the bud into the trash. Already I'm x10 more irritated than usual without my cigarette to keep me calm. Redhead joins my side with Iida, and I feel like I'm being overwhelmed, or like I'm about to be scolded.

"So, Bakugou, what're you doing here?"  
 _"It ain't **obvious**?"_ I say, wishing I had alcohol. _"I'm here to talk to the witness you found."_  
 **"THAT IS NOT PERMITTED! ONLY OFFICERS OF THE STATION CAN SEE THE WITNESS."**  
Red sticks up for me though, patting Iida's shoulder.   
"Pretty sure Midoriya invited him here."

"That I did." Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I face Deku with a disgruntled look, tired of the morning already, and hoping the night can come so we can get to the real work. "Kacchan, you look like **shit**." " **Feel** like **shit**." 

We walk toward the back rooms, Iida giving Deku more than enough words for the green bastard to realize he should've talked to his partner before talking to me. We get to the one-sided room, window peering into the interrogation room. There's the witness. She looks young, maybe younger than Deku and I, and maybe as old as Red. Somethin' about her seems... Froggy. I dunno how to describe it. Deku gives me her record.

" **Tusyu Asui.** "  
"Nice girl. **Clean record**. She's the older sister that takes care of her younger siblings. Mom & Dad **struggling** to find **work**. The usual."   
"So nothing better than what **anyone else** has? Did you run a background check on **the parents**?"  
"We are. Just in case anything links them to the **murder**."

Deku's smart. He wants to take in every detail, make sure he can find any connection. Find out if someone being within ten feet of the crime-scene was either coincidence or a link to the murder. I take my coat off, hang it over a nearby chair. I start filling up a cup of water from the water cooler in the corner of the room. Deku's looking over the file, but he notices my behavior.

"Playing **good cop** this time, Kacchan?"  
"She looks nice, **no need** for a bad cop."  
"Whatever you say."

He's wondering if this city's changed me, and I am too. I enter calmly, notice she has a blanket around her shoulders. She's starring down at the floor, but briefly looks up at me and notices my water cup. No words are exchanged as she takes it and politely mutters a thank you. I sit across from her and rest my hands between my knees, palm in palm. I whisper, voice softly. "Heya, I'm Detective Katuski Bakugou... What's your name?"

"They already ran a **background check** on me... You should know."  
"I just wanted to **be nice**." Bit of a bite to her, but she's probably been through a traumatic experience.  
"You don't have to **force yourself**." 

I inhale a bit and start asking questions. I wanna be out of this room and to Dante's. The pair of legs in my office is waiting for me, and I'm prioritizing her over this witness already due to behavior. I don't rub the bridge of my nose because I don't wanna appear rude. I just ask the basic questions, and I hope she'll talk and let me know what the deal was in that alley. "So, Tsuyu... What were you doin' near that alley?"

"I **didn't kill** anyone."  
"I wasn't sayin' you did, Asui..."  
" **Tsuyu-Chan**. Please call me Tsuyu-Chan. I was grocery shopping. The owner is a family friend and he gives me a discount... It's important to save money. Especially when you're the oldest of three siblings. My family isn't exactly doing well financially." 

Either she's really calm under pressure, or she knows she's innocent. This girl looks stone cold, but I see it under the calm expression. Her fingers fidgeting, the way she's huddling her posture. She's just tryna stay calm under pressure. Scared out of her mind, not knowing what she saw... That or she doesn't understand it. I go for the deeper questions. 

"So, tell me what you saw, Tsuyu."  
"Tsuyu-Chan-"  
"Right. Sorry. So, what did you see in that alleyway, Tsuyu- ** _Chan_**?"

I pick up on this right away. Her pupils constrict. She isn't sure what to say. I raise an eyebrow, but subtly. She starts stuttering, clearly, she can't hold the calm expression. Not if it involves what she saw. I don't blame her. If she saw whoever mutilated the victim that badly, I'd probably be scared outta my wits too. 

"I promise... I wasn't on drugs."  
"Okay..?" I don't like where this is going.

"I was getting groceries... and I know it isn't very safe to go out at night... but I was working the night shift at the store. I work there, too. I figured I'd get some stuff on the way home... and then... I saw **_it_**."   
"It?"  
"It was large... Eyes a bright yellow... Like lemons."  
Lemons. I can't believe this shit. This must've been why she asked me not to thinks she was on drugs. This already sounds nuts.

"It... was **_tearing_** that man apart... Its fingers were like **meathooks**.... **_carving_ **into the man's body. It had **teeth** like **knives** , and they were **sinking** into the man's body. It was **eating** him... like he was a **_thanksgiving turkey_**. I dropped my groceries, and its eyes shot up toward me like an animal's... I hid." She was looking down at the floor again, shivering. I'm not eating this up though, it's a crock of bullshit. She believes her own story SO much though, it's hard not to have an ounce of sympathy for her. I don't want to believe her... but...

"The way he climbed back up the wall too..."  
"He climbed up the wall?"  
"Like a spider... When it gets scared."

I don't know how much of this I can take. I node my head and stand up. _"Thanks, Tsuyu... I appreciate it."_ She once again reminds me to call her Tsuyu-Chan, but I'm already way past out the door before she finishes. I look Deku in the eyes when I get back through to the room and I have no words. Everyone in the room is unsure what to say or how to react. I start.

"So, she was on drugs."  
"SHE SAID SHE WASN'T ON DRUGS-"  
"She was on drugs, Iida." I interrupt the bookworm quickly, and without hesitation. I look to Deku, and he looks lost in thought...

"Well... Maybe she was talking about a **Quirky**." 

The room goes dead silent. I put a cigarette between my lips and take out my zippo lighter. Click after a click gets my cigarette lit after a while. I take a drag. The redhead swallows a lump in his throat and looks toward Deku. He's clearly never talked about a Quirky in the professional world before. The concept of seeing a different breed of humans probably unnerves him. "I-I thought Quirky's weren't allowed to be... I-In the city."

 **"THEY'RE NOT. THEY ARE OFFERED GOVERNMENT MANDATED LIVING TERRITORIES-"**  
"A murderer doesn't care about where he gets his kicks, Iida." Deku interrupts. 

I know you're probably askin'. What's a "Quirky?" Well, you see, durin' World War Two, we threw a lot of chemical weapons at each other. Some people on the winning side went back home irradiated to all hell, made as many babies as they could, and now... Twenty Percent of the human population has somethin' called a quirk. Though, most of the time, they're forced to live in government-mandated areas... Kinda like a reservation. It's illegal for them to live anywhere else but the places they're offered. At least, it is in Japan. That's why most Quirky's aren't sent to traditional prisons. They're sent to specially built ones in their living spaces. 

It's a cruel life, and it ain't right. That doesn't change the situation. Someone was murdered. Worse than that, someone was eaten alive.

"So, basin' this theory off of Tsuyu's-"  
"Tsuyu-Chan." Deku interrupts.  
 _"Shut the fuck up, **Deku**."_ I fire back, annoyed. "-Basin the theory off of **Tsuyu's** story. A **quirky** came **into** Japan, knowin' it was **illegal** and _**almost impossible**_ to **leave** a **livin' space**... stormed into an alley, _probably_ because they were **angry** or some shit... and just **ate** someone?" It sounds stupid. Why would a quirky come into the city, eat a person, and get a whole police force on their tail? It's reckless. Impulsive.

"We know that some quirks cause mutations. Maybe it was like that?"  
"E-Even then, aren't some Quirky's with abnormally violent mutations given **drugs** to **suppress** the **activation** of their abilities?" Shitty hair makes a good point.  
"That's correct," Iida's using his inside voice. Even he's skeptical of this theory. "A drug called ' **expavescimus** ' is given mandatorily to those who show signs of a struggle to control their abilities. It has traces of morphine in it, mixed with a few other chemicals that suppress what scientists believe activates the quirks." Iida lectures us, and it ain't a borin' one... granted... it's just obvious information.

"expavescimus.." Deku repeats, translating. "The Latin word for **Recoil**."   
"So we gotta throw the Quirk theory out the window." I'm halfway through my cigarette, already bored of this theory, and wantin' to find this bastard.  
"I don't **think so** Kacchan. We can't dismiss Tsuyu's story... Sure, the chances of a quirky running around with rampant powers are... slim... but... they're present." Deku's counter to my own dismissal reminds me of our younger rivalry when we were rookies on the force.

I grumble, blowing out smoke. I'm gettin' tired of bein' hung up on this theory. I look toward Deku, Shitty hair, and Iida and I take a final drag of my cigarette before I put it out on my desk. "You three can chase the Quirky theory all you want... I got another lead I'm followin'..." I grab my coat and slide my arms through the sleeves. Deku looks up from his deep trance and tilts his head. "A lead? Where?"

" **My** lead, **my** business... You need to step your game up, Deku. Just cause I'm off the force, doesn't mean I'm lazier."

* * *

Dante's inferno is a cesspool of filth and slime. Maggots, crawling around in a shitpile. Every-time I come in here, the first thing I see and smell is grime. I keep a Colt. 1911 on me, a piece I used frequently when I was on the force. It's not common among the police these days, they tend to use revolvers. I like the feel of a colt though... fits nicely in the palm. Feels comfortable. My fathers and grandfathers got a history of bein' in the military. I'm the odd one out... but that comfortable feeling of military weaponry hadn't left my genes. 

As soon as I'm in Dante's, I look around. It's a two pretty big club. Two stories, but the second story is mostly just a set of balconies. There's a room across from the stage, above the entrance. A set of stairs will take you up to **Enji Todoroki's** office. He works this club to the bone. It's his cover-up. Everyone and their grandma knows that Enji Todoroki got his fingers in the dirt of this city as soon as he was old enough to drive. He's fifty-five now, and he's **Kingpin** of Japan. Movin' arms? Sellin' Drugs? Enji Todoroki'll always get a slice of the pie you're bakin'. He, his queen, and the three kids they got livin' comfortably at his high-rise apartment. 

Everything he does with his crime-work is off the book. This club is his cover-up. What he claims and says his money comes from. Even the police know he's a kingpin... but boy is the bastard smart. No one's able to nail him for it. It's a good trick. Smart, good, and keeps his nose clean on the books. I take a look into his office window, glass is a tinted red. I can see silhouettes... I know the bastard's up there. I look away, toward the stage. 

Any negative thoughts I had before are washed away, the jazz and smooth music take my attention. The woman on stage, her bright red lips move... the sound comin' through it is silky smooth. Her singing's gold. A bright snow-white dress, white heels. Her hair's tied up, hazel and smooth, I bet if untied it'd go down her back... looks long. Her eyes are a sparkling brown, skin as bright as a star. Her cheeks are round and soft... and her legs... I've seen those legs before... But I'm too distracted by the singing to notice.

 **"I spend my days in longing..."**  
Her hips sway softly, her movements matching the soft beat, the strum of the bass, and the sound of the trumpet.  
 **"...And wondering why it's me you're wronging..."**  
She runs her hands up the mic stand, eyes half-lidded, scanning the crowd. She finds mine, but she doesn't look distracted... she locks her hazel eyes with my ruby red orbs... and it feels like there ain't nobody in this bar except me and her.   
**"...I tell you I mean it..."**

She raises her hand, fingers pointing... She's pointing at me. I'm breathless. Her palm moves to rest against her chest... against her heart.

**"...I'm all for you body and soul..."**

That's her... the girl... From my office. She's fully uncovered and I can take in her radiant beauty all from where I'm standin'. I start walkin' to an empty table closer to the stage, but I'm stopped by a guy with strawberry blonde hair. The dull edge of a set of claws is subtly and discretely set against my chest. A warning that force is gonna is used if I make a scene. "Keigo... Good to see ya, **bird brain.** " The gangsters in Enji's mob call him "Hawks" But I know the lowlife as Keigo Takami. 

"Detective." He greets, politely, but with a singe of distaste. Heartwarmin'. "Boss wants a word."  
"When doesn't he?" I ask, turning away from the angel on the stage and headin' toward the set of stairs leading up to Enji Todoroki's office.

  
His office ain't bad, not one bit. Sure as shit beats the hell outta mine. Velvety red for carpets, the desk is probably made out of ivory. He's got a few paintings and some nice leathery couches all over the place. He's got two other bodyguards in the room when Keigo brings me in. Moe Kamiji, and Rumi Usagiyama. Moe likes fire, and Rumi likes brass knuckles and baseball bats. I stand a few feet away from Enji's desk as Hawks locks the door.

"Mind if I smoke?" I ask Enji, his black and red suit standing out as he rests fingertips against each other.  
"Not at all, Detective." He snaps, Moe comin' closer than I'd like with her own lighter.

I get a light from the bodyguard, who looks ready to bite my head off, but I gotta give her a cold look of my own. I gotta let these bastards know I'm not gonna crack under their pressure. I've gone through too many years of hell to break before Enji. I take a drag off my cigarette and loudly let out the smoke. He brought me in here, he'll tell me what he wants.

"I don't usually see you in here, **Detective**... Last time you were in here, you were still on the force."  
"Don't get it **twisted** , big man. I ain't here for **you** , not **this time**. I'm here fer **someone** **else**..."  
"Refreshing. You caused quite a scene, you and your partner... **Midoriya** , was it?"

I don't like him callin' Deku by name. He looks at me with such contempt, and I back. Deku and I tried to take Enji down. Tried to bust him for everythin' he had, but the guy pulled too many strings... he had a full hand and Deku and I just couldn't crack back. Deku managed to keep our jobs, but I needed to branch out. Didn't like bein' apart of a force owned by the mafia... I ain't a dirty cop.

"...Issat why ya brought me up here, Enji? You thought I was here to try and **bust** **ya** again?"  
"Just wanted to **understand** if you'd **_learned your lesson_** the last time, Katuski."

I move toward his desk. His bodyguards go on the alert, and I shoot nobody but Enji a dirty look as I put my cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk. They're still ready to take me out if I so much as blink wrong at Enji from this point forward... I think he even thinks I'm crazy enough... and on another, rougher day, I just might be. I grind my cigarette butt until it's good and gone.

"Don't worry, **old man**... I got it **good**."

I turn toward the door, hands buried deep in my pockets as I shoot Keigo a "Move" look. I don't wanna be in this shitty office any longer than I have too. Enji must give him the look that it's okay because one glance later and the bird brain gets outta my way. 

"Oh, and Detective... Don't worry about your **tab**... Tell the bartender that your drinks are ** _on the house_**..." Enji leans back in his seat. I don't even need to turn back toward him too know that he's grinning, thinkin' I don't have the guts to unload my colt straight into his chest.

I'm filled with fiery fury, fitting the look of Dante's... But it cools down a bit once I see the stage angel sitting at the bar. If a beam of heaven could come down from the sky, just like the spotlight from earlier... it'd probably be shining down on her. I smirk briefly, headin' over to her and quietly takin' the empty stool next to her, raisin' my fingers for the bartender. A younger man with raven hair tied back in a bun comes over. Sleeves rolled down, hiding bruises... I take note of those. His voice is deep and sounds monotone... Almost apathetic. "What'll it be?"

"Scotch for me, and get her another of whatever the lady in white's drinkin'..."  
The bartender looks over, and the stage angel gives him a nod that it's okay. I throw one more thing in, probably thinkin' I'll impress her.  
"Big man says our drinks are on the house..."

The raven hair bartender takes off, starting to make her drink. She looks at me, up and down. Not much to see, personally. My usual attire is just a dark brown coat... nice leather. Fake, but nice. It's collar's usually always flipped up. It's closed loosely, not showin' the black dress shirt underneath. No tie... I hate ties. I got a pair of slacks, shoes and that's it. The holstered gun rests in a shoulder rig under the coat. Reach into the coat and yank it out if I need it. I went in with the fedora today, think sometimes it makes me look slick...

A nasty five o'clock shadow, ruby-red eyes, pale skin, bags under my eyes, and messy blonde hair complete my look. Compared to the stage angel, I look like a common thug off the street. Certainly no detective. She's smoking, so at least we share that in common. She speaks, and as soon as she does, I know she's the broad from my office. "You must be a brave man, Detective."

"Brave? How'd you figure, **_roundface_**?"  
"I've kicked ** _four guys_ **outta that stool..."  
"Well, you invited me here... I figured you wouldn't kick me out _**right** away_."

She shoots me a glance, taking a drag off her cigarette. "So, you aren't totally brainless..." And as our drinks arrive, I knock mine back pretty quickly... but she lightly moves the toothpick her martini's olive is stabbed with around the glass... before putting it between her teeth and making it vanish. 

"I came for answers, ya know."  
"... A real sherlock holmes here."  
"No need for sass, Roundface... I beckoned your call."  
"How about a few more drinks first?"

I give her an annoyed glare, and she stares back with stubborn contempt.

"You can't just **invite me** to Dante's and then **not** give me my answers... I don't like **games**."  
"I **don't play** games, _**Detective**_. I saw you go to the big man's office... you're on _**his** payroll_."

I chuckle, my finger circling the edge of my glass as I signal for another scotch, the bartender comin' back to refill me. 

"I'm not on the big man's payroll, **beautiful**. He's **scared** of me." She doesn't believe that. I give her a nod, "I'm serious. Partner and I tried to **bust** him a few years back... **Surprised** ya don't know that... bein' a **singer** here and all." I knock back my second scotch and she gives me a slightly embarrassed look as she sips her martini. "I ain't been singin' here that long... needed the money... they needed a singer." She says, swallowing her pride and finally croakin'.

"I don't blame ya... _hard_ to find _work_ in this city. You seem **smart** , and you're **drop-dead-gorgeous**... I'm surprised-"  
"That **what**? I can't find work **better** than this? Well, sorry to **disappoint** , but most places ain't lookin' for **_someone smart_**. They're lookin' for a pretty face they can **exploit**..." She sounds sick of this city, and honestly, I feel her. I hate this city more than anyone, but it ain't the offices I'm mad at... it's the deeper aspects. I don't like awkward silence, so I try to break the ice.

"You mentioned havin' a _vested interest_ in that **homicide**... why's that?"  
"I just wanna know _who did it_ , Detective." She's bein' vague. Not a good sign.  
"I'll tell you **that** as soon as **I** know, Roundface..." I'm itchin' for a smoke, so I light one up while she's takin' a drag off hers.  
"Surely you've found **somethin** ' by now, **Detective**." She shoots a glance at me. Surprised that a private detective with a smoking problem hasn't sprung the case. I hate to disappoint, but I'm not that good... 

"Why're you so **concerned** with _who_ did it..?" Though, the suspicion did arise that maybe she could be the one who did it. Then again, Stage Angel doesn't really look like the serial killer type... Though, no one really does. She gives me an ice-cold look in return for the subtle accusation. "I told you: _**vested** interest_." I raise an eyebrow to this and shrug my shoulders. "Workin' theory's that a **Quirky** did it," I confess, and this seems to really take her for a shock.

"You know anythin' about that?"  
"No. I've never met a **Quirky** in my life." She's lying. There's no doubt about it.  
"Well, I gave you a piece of my info, now you gotta give me a piece of yours... What's got you so **fixed** on this?"

She fixes her posture. She's nervous, but not frail. She's not crackin' under pressure, she's reachin' out. It'd be rude of me not to accept her handout. "Yeah... Okay." She takes a drag off her cigarette before lockin' eyes with me. "My folks have gone **missin** '. I just wanna know if the **corpse** was one of 'em." She confesses, and I immediately shoot back with a question as soon as I hear why she's hooked. 

"Why the **secrecy**?"  
" **Police** are in the big man's **pocket**."  
"They're **_good cops_** in that station, **hard** as it is to believe."  
"Too **risky** , not **worth** it. I want my answers **_right away_**."

There's no way this corpse and her parents goin' missin' aren't linked. There's somethin' shady about this whole thing and Stage Angel over here's got her cards too close to her chest for me to figure out what the link is. I let out a frustrated sigh and order a third drink. She was right, I'm down the rabbit hole, and I gotta figure out what's on the bottom before it's too late. I knock back my third drink and look toward her, tired and ready to turn in... but knowin' I gotta start looking for more before I start sleeping. "I don't much **_care_** for Dante's. There's gotta be **somewhere else** we can meet... **_Your place_** , or **mine**?"

She chuckles, side-eyeing me, and tilting her head a bit. She looks me up and down one more time.

"You're **cute** , Detective... But not **_that cute_**. We meet where I wanna meet, and nowhere else... Now finish your smoke, babe... I got another set..."

She twists outta the stool, strolling her way up to the backstage area. I let out a frustrated sigh and rest my head in the palm of my hand, elbow lazily against the bar table. I hate that she just played me like a fiddle... but the last second glance at her rear, and the momentary eye contact I get when she looks back at me and notices the stare... well... that just sorta makes it worth the trouble.

I need a drink... Or two. 


	3. Eye in the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has a price, and information is the most expensive thing in the world.

Sleep for me... It's like white noise, constantly circulating in and out... flushing and warbling like a TV. I barely hear anything in the outside world. No cars, no sirens, no people. Nothing. Though, Camie does have a way of gettin' me up. A cup of water hits me in the face, and I'm up like a cat scared by a firework. Flocking toward the corner of my couch, right knee pointed upward, left heel against the floor, and arms spread wide.

"Kats! Relax! I've been tryna wake ya for **fifteen minutes** , you drunk!"  
I'm hazy, sluggish. "Not nice to talk to yer **boss** that way..."  
"Do you even know **how much** that lady's paying you for the case?"

I rub my eyes and sit up, leaning forward. I knocked on a notebook on the floor. It has notes about the case on it...

\- Lemon eyed monster  
\- Quirky???  
\- Missing folks: Stage Angel  
\- Stage Angel's lying.  
\- See the Broker today.

I grumble, looking up. "I'll charge her... I'll charge her." I mumble out and like a child needing a juice-box, my arm shoots forward and I make a grabby hand for some coffee. Camie gets me a cup the way I like it. You're expecting Black? Aren't you. I like two creams and two sugars. I look toward Camie, who has a judgemental look on her face.

"What?"  
"How much are we getting paid, Kats."  
"A commission from the Police is **six hundred** -"  
"I know, but this lady needs to be charged the **regular rate**." Which is five hundred up front, and five hundred at the end...

I sip my coffee and look toward Camie, waving her away. "Get off my ass, Camie! It's-" I look out the window, she finishes my sentence for me. "Three in the afternoon, boss." I groan. A rookie Bakugou woulda had this case cracked in no time flat. I've fallen off the wagon. Camie sees it, I see it, Deku probably sees it. I sip my coffee again and look toward Camie, whose not her bubbly, empty-headed self today. She gets all of a sudden wiser and more snappy when she's mad.

"Look, Cam. If I don't get a cent out of that broad, I'll give you the entire police commission."  
"That wouldn't be fair, boss..." That's far too nice for her. " _ **Fifty percent.**_ " Yep, there it is.  
"Thirty-five." I haggle with her.  
"Forty-Five." She haggles back.  
"Forty percent." Raise the bar, she'll take it.  
" _Forty_... **_Five_**..." Or not.

I grumble out a " **Fine**." And she lets out a sigh, taking her fake ~~_"I have glasses so I'm smart"_~~ glasses and looking at me. " **Boss** , please don't _hurt yourself_ over this case... I don't know how to do **stitches** , ya know... and payin' me **two-seventy** isn't gonna get the bills for this place paid, not if you have a **hospital** bill stacked on top of it." She's pleading, which she never does. Camie genuinely wants me to be careful. She's right, I'm no young man anymore, I gotta play my hands right or I'll be screwed. I'm not a young man with my healthcare backed by the police station... I can't be careless.

I take another swig of my coffee and lean my head back against the couch, hand wrapped around the mug as I fumble for my coat and look for a pack of cigarettes... arm on auto-pilot. Camie's cleaning for me, emptying ashtrays, and picking up loose papers. I'd look at her butt, but I'm too tired and respect Camie too much too think of her in an overtly sexual way, even if that's why I hired her so long ago... to look good for the customers.

I sit up and find a cigarette, resting it between my lips before getting it lit with my zippo. "I gotta see **The Broker** today." Camie lets out a sigh and shakes her head. "I _just **told** you_ to be careful, Boss." She turns, hand on her hip as she rolls her eyes. "I really hate that **Bitch**. You can't be **THAT** desperate for a lead." I take a drag off my cigarette and wonder if I'm really _that desperate_ for a lead.

"Just spitball what you know so far, Boss." She advises, and for once... it's good advice. Sucks that I'm too tired to appreciate it. I drag a hand down my face and rub the bridge of my nose.

"Tsuyu Asui got her groceries from the store. On the way home, she heard a struggle and looked into an alley-way. According to Asui, she saw a ' **Yellow-Eyed Monster** ' eating a man. Scared, she dropped her groceries... that attracted the attention of the ' **monster** ', who proceeded to be frightened by the noise and crawled away via the wall like a... **spider**..." That was part one, "Deku thinks it's a **Quirky** who managed to get into the city... their ability running **rampant** despite it being suppressed by **Recoil**." Camie interjected.

"Maybe it isn't being suppressed."  
"What?"  
"Well... Drugs wear off, don't they?"

I look down at the floor for a moment and tilt my head side to side for a moment, mulling over the idea. Maybe Deku was onto something. Either way, I keep goin'. "Then comes the **broad** with the **nice legs**." Camie gives me a look and I consider telling her to go fuck herself. "...No, I don't know her name. Anyways, Broad with the nice legs comes in and says her folks are missing. I brought up the **Quirky** , she didn't seem surprised by the fact we were suspecting a quirky, but the fact we might've caught onto **someone's** **trail**." I rub my chin a bit and take another sip of coffee.

"So, why the Broker?"  
"The trail of **'the monster'**."

I hate The Broker, but I need information. She knows what comes in and out of this city, and what happens. Her folks work a manufacturing business that provides for almost everyone in Japan, so they're pretty stacked. The Broker, on the other hand? She makes her back pocket fortune off of the selling of information. She hires a string of spies who infiltrate all forms of Tokyo government and operations and sells to whoever wants to partner with her... For an even share of whatever operation they're running. 

So, if Enji Todoroki runs all the guns and drugs in Tokyo... It's because The Broker gave him the proper channels to do so. When she isn't information broking, however, she does accounting for the family enterprise. Everyone has a double life in this city. Camie sits on the edge of my desk, and I shoot a glance over at her.

"But Boss, c'mon. Maybe that monster turns up and bite another head off! We really don't have too-"  
"First off, Camie... I see her, **alone**. Second off, it ain't a **monster**. Thirdly, the creep can't off any more people... Looks bad for the boys in blue."  
"But really-"  
"No buts."

Camie pouts as I pick up my coat and fedora, sliding it over my head after putting my coat on. "Thanks for the coffee, Cam."

"Good luck."

* * *

I need time to think about an approach, so I walk to the Broker's office. It takes me two hours, so it's five PM by the time I get there. Sun's already setting and I'm already tired. The appearance of her office building makes me even more tired. It's not hers, per se, but she's got an office on the top floor. The family enterprise's building, if you get super technical. 

White marble for walls and what looks like gold makeup linings. Windows for miles, probably sixty or seventy stories. What a view of the city she must have from her top office. I head up the stairs that take me to the entrance, noticing a new sign.

NO SMOKING

You gotta be fuckin' kidding me. Can't a guy catch a break? I head inside, there's a ginger receptionist. She seems nice, probably doesn't know what goes on in the background of this building. The nametag on the desk says "Itsuka Kendo" and I assume she's new. She looks up for me, warm eyes unfamiliar with my appearance as I lean on the desk with my forearms and tap lightly. 

"Can I help you?"  
"Yeah... I'm here to see **Yaoyorozu Momo**."  
"Do you have an appointment."  
"Tell her **_Detective Katuski Bakugou_** is here to see her."

She notices my outfit, the posture, she doesn't need to ask for a badge. Not that I wouldn't show one if I had one. It's illegal for a private investigator to wear a uniform, show a badge, sometimes carry a gun. I have a license to carry, though. I rub at my scruff as she dials away on the phone toward Momo's office. I sit there for a moment, look around at the luxury office before she rests the phone in the cradle. 

"She'll see you now, Detective. So sorry for the wait."  
"Thanks, Doll."

If Enji's office blew mine out of the water than this office blew my whole block out of the water. Probably a twenty by thirty office, large glass window making up the furthest wall. It overlooked the city. Her desk is entirely made of marble material, chairs made out of real leather, book-cases made of the finest wood. A rich queen's office. Her black and gold pen moving quietly across forms and contracts she was overlooking. A pony-tail kept long black hair upright as glasses rested upon the bridge of her nose. She doesn't even look at me.

"Here to question me, Detective?"  
"I thought you knew everyone's business, Ponytail."  
"Don't get smart with me, Katuski."

I raise my hands, assuring her that I'm not here to threaten her. I sit in one of her office chairs, slumping over before taking my hat off and fumbling through my coat pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and my zippo.

"I'd prefer if you didn't, Detective." She breaks the silence, I groan.  
"Fine, whatever."

There's silence. Only the sound of the ticking clock in the background as I turn to look out at the city. We're on the top floor, you'd expect there to be more sounds up here, but there ain't. As soon as she closes the file of contracts she has, a string wraps around a button to get it closed. I watch as she presses a buzzer, speaking clearly into it.

"Kyouka... Come in here for a second."

In pops, a girl with dark hair that looks a bit tomboyish. She's dressed for the job though, women's dress-shirt and a pencil skirt. She's fumbling with her dress shirt. She's got this look on her face that flushes into embarrassment as soon as she looks up and sees me in the room. Guess she thought she and Momo'd be alone. She straightens herself out.

I wave, she waves back.

"Kyouka, take these papers to Ashido... Tell her to file them under 'Detnerat'." She snaps, remembering something else.  
"Also, Coffee for the Detective and I. Two creams and two sugars, right Katuski?"  
"That's right."  
"Two creams and two sugars, Kyouka."

Tomboy over there enters and exits quickly, still flushed and embarrassed. As soon as the large office door closes, I give Momo a look and start strikin' my zippo, regardless of if she cares or not that I smoke.

"Detective, I specifically asked you-"  
"That yer latest _**Squeeze**_ , Momo?"  
"Excuse me?" I give her a knowing look in response to her confused and hostile expression.  
"I know you _**play on the same side**_ sometimes. Not judgin', just askin'. She seemed **_off her game_**."  
"Irrelevant, Detective. Why are you here?"

I take a drag off my cigarette and quietly blow cancer toward her floor. I'm not gonna beat around the bush.

"You know about the murder a few nights ago?"  
"The one where Tsuyu Asui was a witness? I do."  
"You know Tsuyu personally?"  
"When do I ever know a witness _**personally**_ , Detective?"

She makes a fair point. She has men and women in the police station, so I ain't surprised she knows about it already. I take another drag off my cigarette, smaller than the last one, and dip ash on the floor, never breaking eye contact with Momo. "So..." I start up again.

"What do you know, Ponytail?"  
"Some things here, some things there. What's important is what you'll give _me_ for _my_ information." 

I hate these games she plays... They get on my nerves. She knows I can't pay, the fee's way beyond what I manage. I blow more smoke out from between my lips again, letting out an annoyed huff as the cigarette rests between my index and middle finger. "I'll owe you **_another_ **favor." I offer, and Momo grins delightfully to herself. She pulls a manila folder out from under her desk. "Scratch **_my back_** and I'll scratch _**yours**_ , Detective." She slides the folder over to me.

I reluctantly flip open the folder and tap at it. Photos, blurry, but of a figure moving over rooftops. Not really able to get a clear image of what exactly it is. I see glowing eyes and wonder if this could be the perp we're trying to nail. I look up at her, she sees the questioning look on my face before gesturing to look at the next photo. The photo under is of a black-haired guy, burns all over. He looks like he was spat out by hell itself... I wonder if he crossed paths with Enji Todoroki. 

"That's Dabi... He's a new player on the scene. He moves a certain product for an unnamed employer."  
"What kinda product?"  
"One thing at a time, Detective." I really hate this bitch. 

"Recently though, something his men dubbed 'The Gray Ghost' has been swooping in and interrupting the product deals mid transport."  
"Sounds like I'd be good friends with him." This causes Momo to let out a groan, rolling her eyes.  
"Yes, I imagine so... but I want to use your skills for my own benefit this time." She asks, tapping her finger lightly against the desk. 

I take a drag off my cigarette and let out some more smoke, knowing she'll just exploit me. Hell, do I need that info. 

"So, you want me to find out who this guy is?"  
"On the contrary, I want you to see if he's _**real**_."  
"Come again?"  
"I feel that perhaps someone may be trying to cheat me out of my cut. Without the whole product making it through, I get less of a cut... you see?"  
"Yeah, Yeah... I get it. You wanna make sure you ain't gettin' gipped."  
"That's a crude way of putting it, yes." 

I stand up as that Tomboy from earlier comes in and hands me the cup of coffee Momo sent her for. I gesture that I don't want it. "Share it with your boss." I put my hat on and set the cigarette between my lips, one hand in my pocket as I take another drag off it. I leave the broker and her squeeze together before headin' out the office. I hear somethin' from Momo on my way out.

"Oh! And Detective! Do be careful! This could be that _**Monster** _your agency is chasing down... It might just try and go in for a bite~" 

* * *

"Sorry, Bakugou... There isn't anyone in the records with the name 'Dabi'." 

I'm back at the station, and I've "Strongly insisted" that the redhead try and dig through some files for that name. My coat hangs on a chair in the records room, Shitty hair digging through the D section. I don't like it. He's a new player and he's already on the down-low? From what Momo made it sound like, it seemed like he was movin' tons of product. How can that not get the attraction of someone like Enji Todoroki? 

**_"I don't like the feel of this."_ **

Kirishima's eyes widen and I hear a familiar, condescending voice as the door opens.   
"Dealings with **the broker** , Kacchan?"  
Oh, goodie. Deku sounds ticked. I turn and sit on the edge of the record room desk.  
"Relax, **Deku**. I'm not in any more hot water with **Enji Todoroki**... in fact, I think this could get me on his good side."

Deku raises an eyebrow to me, wanting me to elaborate. I do, but I light a smoke up first. Need it to relieve stress. 

"There's this new player on the scene, goes by the name **Dabi**." I blow out more smoke as I recap what info The Broker gave me, "Tall, black hair, covered in **burns**. Real _nasty lookin'_ dude. He gets product moved for some **Employer** and gives **The Broker** a cut of the pie for a reason she didn't feel the need to disclose." Shitty hair looks all the more confused, but Deku's already rubbing his chin. Dork's got theories brewing like a mad scientist gettin' an idea. 

"So, you think he's on Enji's bad list... _**because**_?" Deku's hesitant to believe Enji wouldn't know about the product being moved... I get it.   
"The **burns**? Besides, Enji never **mentioned** Dabi. Dontcha think we woulda _dug him up_ during our younger days... **First** I'd ever ** _heard of him_**."  
"So, Dabi moves product for some **_unknown figure_** , gives the cut to The Broker. Probably for keeping him off of Enji's radar."

Red snaps and points, "Yeah~! If Enji wanted to move product, The Broker'd give him the info as to when the right time was, and then gives Dabi a time that conflicts with Enji! That way, Enji's too busy movin' his own product to notice Dabi's efforts." Damn, the kid's good. If two operations are goin' on at one time, on opposite sides of the city... that means-

Deku and I give each other looks, Shitty hair confused, "What? Did I say somethin' **wrong**?"  
"If Enji were to ever find out about **Dabi's effort** s... the **rival drug move**..." Deku starts.  
"It could start a **gang war** that could _tear this city apart_." My cigarette's burning, I haven't even touched it. Some of my weight gives out on the edge of the desk. Even the redhead knows that this could be bad.

"So..." Shitty hair starts. "We've got a Serial Killer on the loose amidst a possible drug war? Man..." I finally take a shaky drag off my cigarette as Red takes his hat off, Deku looking up at me. "We don't even have a lead on **The Killer**. We gotta tackle _one problem at a time_. We can get Dabi after we spare more **innocent lives**. Kacchan, any leads from The Broker?" His words fade right through me, he has to repeat my name a few times to get me snapped back in.

"Y-Yeah. Apparently, Dabi's moves have been gettin' crashed by somethin' his guys call **'The Gray Ghost'**."  
"What? A **vigilante**?"  
"Maybe? The Broker thinks it's all _a bunch of **bullshit**_ that Dabi cooked up so he can keep some of the product to himself..."  
"That product's profits _go to him_ , The Broker gets a lower cut than before."

I nod and put my cigarette out in the record room's ashtray. "Right, and The Broker wants me to see if this Vigilante's real. If they are, maybe we can _kill **two birds** with **one stone**_. For all we know, it could be that **yellow-eyed Quirky** eatin' homeless people... Just looking to see how Dabi's product **tastes**." I grab my coat and fedora, lettin' out a shaky sigh. A gang war could paint the city in a new coat of shiny red... Deku stops me, grabbin' my arm. I hate when he holds me up... in my young days, I woulda socked him in the mouth.

"If it _**isn't** the killer_?"  
"Then we got **two** glowin' eyed freaks in our city... One with a **deathwish** , and One with an affinity for **human meat**."

I yank my arm outta Deku's, puttin' my fedora on. As I go, Deku asks me one more question. "You want backup? I'll send _**Kirishima** here_ with you..." And I look back toward Shitty hair. So, his name's Kirishima. I shake my head and pull my coat collar further over my face. "Nah, I can go at it alone. I've always wanted to try my hand at **Monster huntin** '..." And with that, I'm off.

Into the nightlife once again, this time, with the risk of bein' _eaten **alive**_...


	4. The Gray Ghost

Momo's casefile gave me a time and a place to be at. A starting time & place, and an ending time & place. I don't much care for the product, but I wanna know where they're headin'. Figured I could get to meet this unnamed employer for myself if I got to the drop-off point. Though, I sure was sent for a wallop when I found the drop-off truck at a warehouse only two blocks from Dante's Inferno. Dabi's either workin' with Enji... or he's so sure he'll never get caught that he wants to do his dirty business right near Enji's stompin' grounds.

Either way, he's a _crazy **son** of a **bitch**_.

I got myself perched in the fire-escape next to the warehouse. It's three stories, and the angle gives me enough peepin' room to see Dabi comin' out of the truck with a few of his own crew... They're a colorful batch of freaks, that's for sure. One's a short broad, crazy hair and even crazier eyes. She flourishes a knife in her hand like it's a toy... quietly giggling to herself as snake-like eyes take in everything about the warehouse. Seein' her makes me pull the hammer on my colt pistol back. 

The next is a stranger lookin' fella. Has a cane and a tophat, marble between his finger. He's dressed far too fancy for a drug deal. Looks like he's wearin' a mask... that'll make it harder to identify him too. The girl watches the man in the suit open up the back of the truck. A few nameless nobodies come out, casual wear and Tommy-guns. My colt won't be able to match up to that firepower... that's for sure. Dabi snaps his fingers and the guys get movin', carryin' crate after crate of what I assume is 'The Product' in the warehouse. I start to weasel my way to the window, but I hear somethin'... it makes me stop.

"He's a tad bit **late** tonight, isn't **he**?" The mask in the suit asks, twirling his cane round and round.  
"Maybe someone finally got to **him** ~!" The girl giggles, bringin' her knife far too close to her face for comfort.

They're talkin' about the gray ghost... There ain't no way in hell he's real. He's cooked up. They're either talkin' about the boss or Enji. Can't be.

I'm quick to be disproven, as somethin' or someone throws one of the nameless guys out of one of the warehouse windows. He crashes into the truck, rollin' onto the pavement. Dabi pulls out a revolver from his coat, so does the man in the mask. They both got their pistols locked on the broken window. It's when we all hear the sound of Tommy Gunfire in the warehouse that Dabi and The Mask turn their pistols toward the entrance to the warehouse. 

I know it could get me killed, or worse... But I rest my palm against the wall and I slowly begin to slide my head up toward the edge of the window. I'm shakin' in my boots tryin' to picture whatever, or whoever might be in that godforsaken warehouse. It's dark, too dark to make out anythin' but the swingin' warehouse lights... danglin' from side to side. There're some broken crates and a body. It's the second thug that came with Dabi... not the member of his crew... but the one movin' the crates. I'm sweatin' because it's too quiet...

_"Would this fuckin' **Ghost** come out already?"_

Gunshots. I should've kept my god-damn mouth closed. I panic, movin' down the fire-escape, and round the corner toward the entrance of the warehouse. All I see is the truck and a hell of a lot of smoke. Too much smoke. It covers the whole entrance of the warehouse and some of the delivery truck. I can't see a damn thing through it. There's no way I'm gonna be stupid enough to go inside the smoke, so I shout into it.

_**"** FREEZE! **POLICE!"**_

I'm not a cop anymore, but I'm so racked with fear that I'm speakin' purely based off instinct this time. I see a figure in the smoke, it's the girl with the whacked-out hair. She falls to the ground with an "Oomph." Some parts of her face are bloodied up. Her knife slides out of her hand and by the time she picks it up, she sees me. She tilts her head, looking annoyed to see me. 

"What's a filthy **Detective** doing here!?" She shouts at me. She tries to intimidate me by flourishin' her knife... and if it weren't for the fact that I'm packin' heat... Then I'd be intimidated alright. I tell her one more time, " **Freeze**! Drop the knife, kid!" But she doesn't listen. The bruises on her face must be gettin' to her because she starts runnin' toward me with hate and fury in her eyes. 

This ghost stuff has me wracked with anxiety, fear, and it's got me sweatin' like a bitch in heat. I can't let some girl get the better of me for it, though. I point the pistol down and pull back on the trigger. Her knee meets the power of a .45 round. It sends her to the ground, knife sliding toward me. I kick it away. Nowhere specific, just away. The smoke's beginnin' to clear by the time I've shot out the girl's knee. I move in close and grab her by the back of the hair. She's insane, and she shows it off by clawin' at my face. I curse at her, tell her to stop, before aimin' the gun right in her face.

She gets the picture immediately. She stops bitin', stops scratchin'. For once in my life, I'm pointin' a gun at someone's face. I feel like a thug, like a lowlife criminal. Worse than I've ever felt in my whole life. Worse than the rookie days where I called my superiors "Dirty Bastards." Worse then the fistfights I got into with Deku durin' our grade school years. I'm pointin' the power of death in some kid's face, and I can't even get my head on straight enough to spit out a question. When I do, all it is is:

_" **Dabi**!? Where's Dabi!?"_

She's laughing, looking into the barrel of the gun and cackling. It makes me sweat even more. I don't think I've ever met a psycho who's laughed in the face of a gun. I let her go and stand up. I aim my gun back in the cleared up smoke. It's cleared enough for me to see, purple mist now... liftin' up into the air. I aim my gun into the darkened warehouse, but there ain't enough light to see what's in there. I move toward the body I saw, check the pulse. He's alive... The Ghost didn't ax him. I'd ask myself why, but my train of thought is thrown off the rails when I hear sounds of a struggle. 

I aim my gun forward and see Dabi wrestlin' with a figure in all black. He's made Dabi bleed... bruises over his burns, blood on his face. That's when I realize who the hell is beatin' him up. This is the guy that everyone's talkin' about... " **The Gray Ghost**." He ain't too tall, probably an inch or two shorter than Deku. He's wearing what looks like a leather jacket, some airman boots and pants, gloves, and goggles that shine a bright white. There's a scarf wrapped around the lower parts of his face... I can see that he's got ruffled up brown hair... But this Gray Ghost. He ain't no monster...

He's just some guy. He thrashes Dabi around for a bit, kicks the crap out of him. Dabi's not on his game, he ain't got a gun... no defense... and The Ghost got him by surprise. I watch the Ghost grab him by the collar of his jacket and threaten to start beatin' him again. Before I shout freeze, I hear him say somethin'...

"I won't ask **again**! Where are **they**!?" The voice is angry, raspy, but it sounds young.  
"You think I'd _tell **you**_? Go to hell-" Dabi's a sarcastic bastard, that's for sure. He lets out a raspy chuckle when The Ghost socks him across the face again. I watch The Ghost slam his head up against the ground, grind the heel of his boot into Dabi's temple. It really looks like The Ghost is gonna kill him. I finally shout- " **Freeze**!" But The Ghost doesn't stop, he just keeps askin' Dabi the same thing.

" **TELL ME**!"   
But Dabi doesn't answer him this time, just goes quiet. I've made my presence known. I cock the hammer back on my gun and shout again.  
 _"_ **HANDS UP**! I'll **blow you away**! ** _I swear to god_** _!"_ I shout, fear, and anger in my voice. The Ghost even goes quiet now. My finger's itchy...

Can I really blow someone away? What if he ain't a kid? I don't know enough about this guy yet to know if it's the right call. It sounds like he could have more info. I feel like Stage Angel was right... that this really is some rabbit hole I'm fallin' down. My palms are sweaty, I'm swallowing lumps in my throat like I've got some kinda cold. I'm shaking. I'm **Katuski Bakugou** goddammit! Why should be I **SHAKING**?! I used to scare criminals... now I'm afraid of some kid in a mask!? No... I'm afraid of killin' some kid in a mask, that's what it is. 

My nerves spike when Dabi smashes something against the ground. I pull the trigger, but my aim is off. The bullet rips through The Ghost's side. He lets out a shout of pain and holds his side. He backpedals off of and away from Dabi, who scrambles to his feet and throws a zippo onto the ground. As a fire ignites on the floor of the warehouse... I unload my clip. The Ghost uses crates of the product as cover, running, and climbing between them until he can throw himself through a window and out into the night. 

I'm startin' to gather from the smell that Dabi broke a bottle of liquor. I go to try and chase after him, but the fire's too high now. It's spread onto crates of The Product. I throw my Colt 1911 aside and start carrying the unconscious thugs out of the warehouse. That chick with the messy hair's gone too... a trail of blood leadin' too the truck. I hear a tire screech as it peels out. I throw the men I carried aside and dive behind the walls of the warehouse entrance as The Mask in the suit opens Tommy Gun fire onto where I just was. A bullet pierces my thigh and I collide with the warehouse floor. 

As I limp outta the warehouse, I see Dabi get into the truck. I curse wild insults that'd make a mother faint and pick up a Tommy Gun. I could piss vinegar right now, that's how pissed I am with myself tonight. Even as the Tommy Gun clicks over and over to let me know that it's empty... I just keep clickin' and clickin' as the van pulls away into nothing... the warehouse behind me burning and burning... crumbling to nothing. Our only lead... gone.

* * *

It didn't take long for Deku and his guys to get here. By the time an ambulance shows up, I've got a cigarette in my mouth, and my coat wrapped around my leg to try and stop any blood loss. Medics say my leg will be fine, but I need to be off it for a while. I know that'll set me back a good while. I don't even inhale as the cigarette burned while in-between my lips. I'm sittin' on the back of the ambulance, the medics finally leavin' me alone as I finally take my cigarette out of my mouth and tap at the end so the ash falls.

"Well, my guys got through what was left of the warehouse..." Deku casually strolls up to the ambulance, leaning against the edge of it as we stare at the charred remains of our only lead. I offer him a cigarette, he sees my hands shaking. He takes one, but only because he feels bad, feels pity for me. He doesn't have his own lighter, so I give him mine. Finally, I muster up enough to ask, "And?"

"And, there ain't **much** left... but... we found **this**." He tells me, and I look toward a bag of red powder. It's in an evidence pouch.  
"Is that what was-"  
He cuts me off, "Looks like some of the crates you **shot open** sprayed it out everywhere. Some few traces **survived**." It was about a pinch, but enough.

I share a glance with Deku, the two of us sharin' a smoke outside the warehouse. He hasn't smoked in a while, so it takes him a while to get back into the flow of it. He coughs a bit, patting his own chest. "...Shoulda quit **smokin** ' a long time ago, Kacchan." He scolds me, and I stop lookin' at him. We ain't shared a smoke since I was on the force... always bruised and battered after a rough few cases. Late nights and long shifts.

"I saw the **Gray Ghost**." Deku looks at me in disbelief. "He ain't no monster." I put my cigarette out and lean forward a bit, base of my wrists on my knees. Deku listens intently, still leaning against the ambulance with a cigarette between his lips. "Can't believe I'm **sayin' this**..." I'd rather die than say it, especially as a younger man. "You were **right**. He ain't our killer, and that means..." 

"We got two **freaks** out in the **city**." Deku finishes my sentence for me, sighing as he puts his cigarette out too. I let out a sigh and stand up. Deku instinctively moves to help me, "Whoa. Whoa. Where _are **you**_ goin'?" He asks, hand pressed against my chest. I'd shrug him off, but I'd probably fall... bum leg and all. I can't stop here tonight though, I gotta keep movin'.

"I'm goin' to **Dante's**..."  
" **Dante's**? Why there?"   
"Need answers... Need to find **Dabi**." I'm so tired, my injuries are weighin' me down... And I can't focus.   
"No, **Kacchan** , you're goin' home... I'm gonna have **Kirishima** take you **home**." He signals for the redhead to come to help me, and the rookie's there in a snap. He laughs, trying to make light of the situation as he pats my back, hooking my arm around his shoulders so he can help me. I don't deadweight him as he helps me over to the squad car. "Looks like they really _**messed ya up**_ , pal." Kirishima smiles, helpin' me into the passenger seat. 

As soon as we're in the car, I grab Kirishima by the shirt collar and pull him closer. There's fear in his eyes, not fear.. more shock. I grumble out, "Dante's." before pushing him back into his seat. He starts the patrol car as I pull my fedora over my head... but the car doesn't move. I lift my hat and look at him.

"What's the hold-up, Red?"  
"Seatbelt."

I stare at him in disbelief. I groan and roll my eyes, "Are you fuckin' serious!?" I ask him. He raises his eyebrows and nods at me, making this face at me like I'm supposed to know he's got a stick up his ass. "You fuckin'-" I mumble out obscenities that would make my mother think I'm possessed by the devil himself... and she knows I've got a nasty attitude. I click my seatbelt and look at the Redhead. "There! Ya happy goddammit!?" 

His face instantly turns into a bright, bubbly, happy face. 

"Yeah! That's what I like to see! Thanks, Detective." 

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see where this goes! I'm trying to get my motivation back! My first FIRST-PERSON POV fic. LMK what you guys think.


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